chapter1271

Thalassa bolted upright, a rush of awkwardness propelling her to take several steps forward, distancing

herself from Lysander as if that could somehow diffuse the embarrassing air from moments ago when

she found herself perched on his lap.

She glanced back after a few paces and caught the surprised looks from the hotel staff. With a

sheepish grin, she tried to alleviate the tension in the air, lifting a hand in a shaky wave and chuckling,

"Carry on, please."

The housekeeper masked her own discomfort, nodding with a polite wariness, "Of course, we'll have

this done in no time."

As the staff began briskly tending to the bed nearest the door, their nervous haste was palpable—they

were clearly itching to swap out the linens and make themselves scarce.

Thalassa knew exactly what was running through their minds—they had seen her on Lysander's lap

and must have thought they'd interrupted a private moment.

The mere thought of them imagining her and Lysander together in bed sent a blush to her cheeks, hot

as boiling water scalding her skin.

While she squirmed in her discomfort, Lysander remained the picture of casual repose, lounging

against the nightstand with one leg stretched out, the other bent, his hands resting casually on his

knees. His gaze, fixed on Thalassa, was calm and unfathomable, as if she were the only person in his

world.

Feeling the weight of his cool stare at her back, she shivered involuntarily, her skin prickling with

unease as if she were prey under a predator's watchful eye.

She forced a laugh, "I'll just step out for a bit."

"Hold it right there!" Lysander's voice, cool and commanding, stopped her in her tracks.

Thalassa turned, her heart pounding, to meet his penetrating gaze—deep and dark as the ocean's

abyss, capable of drowning one's soul.

"Mr. Sinclair, is there something you need?" she asked meekly.

Mr. Sinclair? The formality seemed to chill the air around them further, the room's temperature

plummeting with his displeasure.

His oppressive aura had everyone on edge.

The housekeepers, who hadn't exchanged a single word with Lysander, now sweated profusely, feeling

the pressure drop in the room.

They finished their task quickly. They were eager to escape, bowing and scraping, "All set for you. Rest

assured it's all clean. Have a great day."

Thalassa's face, just beginning to regain its normal color, flamed red again at their words. 'Have a great

day'—could there be a hidden meaning?

"Come here," Lysander demanded.

Thalassa's feet felt welded to the floor. Her mind screamed to flee, but her body responded to

Lysander's command, drawing her towards him.

Ultimately, she found herself beside him.

"You think you can slip away from me that easily?" Lysander arched an eyebrow, reaching out his hand

to her. New ch?pter av?ilable o? Draмаnоvеls.cоm

Thalassa eyed his open palm, hesitated, then placed her hand in his.

Her heart clenched at the implication. What did he mean?